


Riverside

by another_crack_in_time_and_space



Series: Dragon Age Drabbles [4]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Confessions, Dorian is yikes, Established Relationship, Forgot what that quest was called ngl, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Final battle, alcohol mention, discussions of mental health, self harm mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 08:54:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9878063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/another_crack_in_time_and_space/pseuds/another_crack_in_time_and_space
Summary: Down by the water, the riverbed, somebody called you, somebody said, swim with the currents and disappear....Jasper Lavellan has few things in life he is afraid of talking about, all of which hurt. Dorian, on the other hand, can only ever talk about what hurts him.





	

The glass of the bottle had become sweaty in the last few hours. His own palm slid along it smoothly before he snagged it in mere fingertips. Dorian snorted at this, reaching across to steady his pale hands. Their skin clashed nicely in the hazy violet light that was dawning in the break between the mountains. They had split this bottle, the third of its kind. Hours before Dorian had been beside himself at some slight, Jasper his silent listener. Now a deep red had bloomed across both of their faces. Jasper was very drunk, and he hated red wine. Dorian was better at holding himself, as he should be. They sat together on the balcony, legs sprawled against each other. Dorian spoke first, a mumble more than coherent language.

  
“Amatus,” he sighed, running a free hand through his hair and staring lustfully at the bottle in the elf’s hand, “You are a secretive man. You keep your cards so close.” Dorian giggled. He was poetic this early in the morning. His head lolled back against the archway, his eyes shutting against the stars above them.

  
“Me? Secretive?” Jasper snorted. “Everything in this whole castle is about me. I’m everywhere.” He drank a heavy mouthful and grimaced. It burned still. Wasn’t it supposed to stop burning after your mouth goes numb?

  
“No, everything is about the Inquisition. You may be the Inquisitor, but you aren’t all of us.” Dorian laughed again, like this was funny. “Pompous fool. You try to pretend they’re one and the same, but we know you’re lying.” He shrugged and gestured for the bottle.

“For someone who hates confessions you sure do love to talk.” Jasper muttered sourly, handing it off. He turned to look out at the rising sun, and the purple sky above it.

  
“How’d you get that scar?” Dorian asked. Jasper raised a hand to shield it self consciously, tracing the sunken line across his left cheek. Somedays he forgot it even existed, though it marred his smile. He opened his mouth to shrug it off, but it was late and he was tired. He didn’t have to avoid this, if he didn’t want to.

  
“It’s a bit of a story,” he dug his hand into the curls on his head, pulling them nervously. “It’s ugly.” Dorian stared unwavering, waiting for him to continue. With a heavy sigh Jasper let his head fall against his chest before looking up again and folding his hands together.

  
“Well you remember how I failed my vallaslin ceremony, right? My keeper had only traced the outline and  done one cheek before I gave up.” Dorian knit his eyebrows together.

  
“Yes, but you needn’t sound so guilty. You couldn’t finish it because-”

  
“Because I hadn’t come out yet, yes. I remember my own story,” Dorian turned a hand up in surrender, and took another sip before Jasper continued. “Well they say it’s nothing to be ashamed of. We all have our own processes, the Creators will know when it’s right for you, blah blah blah. The other apprentices in my clan...they didn’t really care about what the Creators thought. They thought it was ridiculous that I was nearly twenty and didn’t have my vallaslin yet. Now I was walking around half marked, like a halla-hearted coward.” Dorian placed the bottle aside, focusing his bleary eyes on Jasper’s hands, which had taken to picking at the scarred skin of his middle knuckle. He didn’t move closer but rather locked eyes with Jasper, face serious. “I didn’t take it well. I left the clan for a little while. There was a series of caves to the south where I stayed. There I am, one night, staring into the sky and thinking to myself ‘I will never be one of them’. I became overwhelmed with the thought. All I’ve known is the Dalish. They’re all I’ve ever fought for, all that has held me. And I was too weak. I had failed them, my ancestors, the Creators-”

  
“Did you...Do you still think that?” Dorian cut in again. Alarm had sparked under his skin, anxiety burning holes in his tongue. Jasper could barely look at him, instead looking down at his hands.

  
“Some days are harder than others. I’m the herald of a shem god, at the head of a shemlen organization. This Inquisition is supposed to be for all of us, to save all of Thedas. But you know what red lyrium did to my clan. Those were...rough weeks.” Jasper rubbed at his eyes, which were practically glowing now that light had properly come over the ridges of the mountains. Dorian had never seen something so beautiful, nor something so painful. He knew it was easier to never talk about it, and had tried his hardest to keep his own problems silent. “Anyway, there I am sitting in some forsaken cave, terrified and alone. This...mania over took me. I had to get out of my skin. I had to get up and do everything I needed all at once, because I was going to die. The pain was was...intolerable.” Jasper rubbed absently at his arms, phantom feeling prickling over his biceps as he spoke about it. “So I just...started to…” he shrugged and clenched his jaw, the flood of memories coming back to him. Hot tears burned in his eyes. How could he have been so weak and stupid? “I made mistakes” he barked after a pause. “I hurt myself and it solved nothing. It was stupid.”

Dorian pursed his lips at this before asking “You did that?”. Confusion dawned over Jasper’s face as he nodded.

“Yes, I did this. You really didn’t know? I mean the other scars are...well, very faded now, but..” He took the bottle back and drank, just to have a better use for his mouth. Another silence struck them.

  
“I could never do that.” Dorian said finally, shifting against the hard stone. Jasper lip curled defensively, a sharp retort on his lips before Dorian continued, unaware. “Did I ever tell you of the year I spent in stupor? Oh my father was...furious would be too kind of a word. I whittled away my allotment on brothels and drink.” He smiled, but it cut a strange shadow across his face in the rising sun.

  
“I don’t see what it has to do with this.” Jasper wouldn’t call it pouting but listening to anymore grief might just be too much while also trying to pretend his jealousy was simply recurring anxiety, or perhaps just anger in general. He didn’t have the privilege of jealousy.

  
“Oh, no? Because I couldn’t mark myself like that physically. Far too vain, and if I must say, too craven. So drink it was.” He waved a hand at the bottle in Jasper’s hand.

  
“There’s nothing brave about-” Dorian scowled at Jasper’s second interruption and he bowed his head. “Fine, but you’re wrong.” he muttered.

  
“More often than not someone would find me and drag me home. I was willinging to go to whoever wanted me that night, when my father stopped giving me money. They weren’t all gentle and loving.” He rubbed his wrist absently, eyes far away. “But I was...getting what I wanted, so I never stopped them. Well not until I met Mae. So I suppose that uncomfortable story was all to say I understand.” His eyes crinkled like he was smiling but his mouth wouldn’t follow suit.

  
“We’re still alive,” Jasper whispered, as sure a statement that could be. “I got my vallaslin, you stopped drinking yourself to death every night. We’re here and we are alive.” He laughed now, more out of hysteria than joy. “How awful.”

  
“Just deplorable.” Dorian agreed. He looked over at Jasper through his lashes and lifted a heavy hand to touch the cheek. He didn’t move away from the touch, but rather let Dorian explore it slowly with soft fingers. His bottom lip trembled at the thought of almpst losing Jasper before he had ever met him. It was silly, Dorian knew, but Jasper had seen him become a changed man, had been with him for so much emotional labor he would never have even thought of on his own.

“You’re important,” Dorian whispered after a pause. “Does it hurt still?” Jasper shrugged and caught Dorian’s hand in his own.

“Not like you think it would. But you...help. I can wake up still feeling it. But then I see you, next to me and everything is softer. Do you understand?” He smiled quickly but awkwardly.

“I understand.” Dorian agreed. He shivered quickly and looked out at the rising sun, now almost entirely clear of the mountains. “Should we retire then? Before Josie catches us and gives a stern talking to.” Jasper laughed and rose unsteadily.

“You’re already locked out of the basement, what more can she do?” He joked, helping Dorian to his feet and walking them backwards toward his bed. Regardless of three bottles down he was still annoyingly graceful.

“Wicked things I’m sure. Terrible things. She could order cotton sheets, for instance. Only serve my least favorite tea. Pour out the wine.” The pair fell over together landing in a pile of elbows and knees.

“We can’t have that. You’d be inconsolable for days.” Dorian sniffed at the thought and mussed his hair with one hand, the other wrapping around Jasper’s waist. “I’d never get anything done”

“Nothing at all,” Dorian agreed. He shut his eyes slowly and breathed in Jasper’s scent, reveled in his warmth. He loved him, so much. So entirely. It scared him, often. He was well and truly gotten, and would never want for anything, except perhaps to never outlive this.


End file.
